


Fidelitas

by dragonofdispair, Rizobact



Series: Vampiric Codex [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampires, Blood Drinking, Canon What Canon?, Dark Fantasy, Horror, M/M, Politics, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Vampire!Dai Atlas, Vampire!Megatron, Vampire!Ratbat, Vampires, Violence, dubcon, murders, vampire!Soundwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: Before Autobots and Decepticons. Before the Breakout. Before the vampires were even imprisoned as gladiators… New lights and new technologies promise safety from the ancient terrors of the night. In the view of some, magic is just another technology, to be used and exploited for the benefit of all. But Cybertron will always be a place of vampires. The veneer of civilization is a thin disguise for them all, and Ratbat isn’t the only monster lurking in the senate halls and the streets.





	Fidelitas

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to October! Happy Halloween month, have some monsters! Riz wanted to write something else in the vampire ‘verse, so I told her to pick a Decepticon to explore and she picked Soundwave. XD ~dragon
> 
> Bc Soundwave is awesome! And it was an excellent opportunity to take a look at another way in which vampires in this world are not, and have never been, nice. ~Rizo
> 
>  **Warnings:** Vampires, blood drinking, murder, **keeping sentients as livestock,** sex, dubious consent, violence.
> 
> Beta’d by [Unicron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicron/works)

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Consciousness trickled back into his frame as the sun set and Soundwave became aware of the familiar weight of his suzerain pressing him into the soft mattress. They had fallen into torpor like that, locked in the vault-turned-lair in Ratbat’s manor, Soundwave beneath Ratbat, and though he was sure he’d woken first he waited patiently to be allowed to move. He had tasks he was responsible for carrying out around the manor, but only once Ratbat dismissed him from his side.

He’d be waking now too, contemplating his own night. Would he want Soundwave again before leaving the lair? Would he want to feed together sooner, or later? He had an important meeting at the Senate to attend, and he usually prefered to feed just before those. Soundwave shared that preference; it was much easier to focus around the mortals with that insistent desire temporarily pushed back.

Ratbat’s frame shifted as he took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of Soundwave’s plating with a self satisfied hum. Soundwave found himself pushed over, suddenly looking up into his suzerain’s hungry red optics. With a possessive smile he petted down Soundwave’s helm and over his neck and chest. Soundwave tilted his head back automatically, offering. 

“Good pet,” Ratbat praised. His optics darkened further as he settled more firmly on top of Soundwave again. His fangs lengthened and he took a deep breath of Soundwave’s plating again. “Touch me first. I’m going to take you tonight. I want to be humming with pleasure before we feed.”

“Yes, master.” Soundwave could do that. He brought his hands to Ratbat’s frame, dexterous fingers finding the places he responded to best with the ease of long practice. As he focused on obeying his suzerain, an idle thread in his processor wondered just how Ratbat meant to take him this time. Anything he wanted was his right, of course, and Soundwave had no intention of resisting, but some activities were more strenuous and time-consuming than others. What Ratbat got out of them was something of a mystery to Soundwave. Touching was pleasurable, yes, and he enjoyed his suzerain reasserting his claim on him as much as Ratbat did, but the overloads were somewhat superfluous.

Overloading did seem to be Ratbat’s goal, though. He hissed and moaned as the sparks chased Soundwave’s fingers, growling out demands that had Soundwave chasing that pleasure in turn. Touching, being touched, felt nice, but the sparks stung.

He hadn’t been told to go slowly. Maybe he wouldn’t have to put up with it for too long? Soundwave applied himself to raising his suzerain’s charge quickly. Powerful flight engines purred in response. He didn’t tell Soundwave to slow down. 

In fact…

“Open,” Ratbat snarled, scratching at Soundwave’s chest hard enough for his claws to leave marks in otherwise pristine blue paint. Wordlessly Soundwave obeyed, folding his plating up and aside to bare his spark chamber. Did Ratbat want him to open that as well? Ratbat hissed again and Soundwave felt claws on the chamber itself. “All the way, pet.”

“Yes, master,” Soundwave said as he hastened to comply. His hesitation hadn’t been a refusal after all. Soundwave arched his back to give his suzerain the best possible angle for this, looking up at the play of purple sparklight and shadow and the sparks of Ratbat’s impending overload on the nearest wall of the lair. He shivered when the light of his own spark was joined by Ratbat’s and braced himself.

_ MINE! _

_ Yours.  _ But also, in a way,  _ mine.  _ Soundwave submitted to the merge, enjoying that undeniable proof of their connection at least. The sparks and charge burning though Ratbat’s frame were still uncomfortable, but through the merge (and experience) he could tell it wouldn’t be long this time.

He wasn’t wrong. Ratbat was on the edge already, and plunging into Soundwave’s spark, merging and redoubling the energy, sent the sparks exploding quickly over his suzerain’s frame with a cry. Ratbat’s pleasure swamped Soundwave, and he too arched, crying out himself in reflex. Not his favorite way to be taken, but his pleasure wasn’t what mattered, and he felt… satisfied and content, with that undeniable proof of his suzerain’s enjoyment.

He collapsed back against the berth when it was over, feeling drained more than sated. The exertion only intensified his hunger, but he continued to lie beneath Ratbat, waiting, not even closing his plating. He’d said pleasure before  _ we  _ feed; did that mean they were going to the basement together?

Ratbat chuckled, stroking Soundwave’s exposed internals possessively; Soundwave still purred at the touch. “You are more than satisfying, as always. Close up,” he withdrew his hand, “and sit up. I think you deserve a reward.”

_ Reward? _ That was even better than feeding together. Soundwave obeyed, sitting up as his armor resettled itself over his protectively closed spark chamber.

Ratbat didn’t answer the unvoiced query. He petted Soundwave, pleasure dimmed optics and covetous smile following his vassal’s every movement. He waited with a thin veil of patience for Soundwave to get settled, then leaned back in, pressing the submissive vampire against the wall again. 

This time, instead of thrusting himself into Soundwave’s spark, his fangs pierced the primary energon line in his throat, reopening the repeatedly healed scars there.

_ Yes! YOURS!  _ This was much better, even if it hurt in its own way. This pain felt  _ right,  _ not just  _ bearable. _ Soundwave let out a soft keen and he felt his —  _ his _ — suzerain’s lips curve further into a possessive smile.

Energon welled from the wounds sluggishly, but Ratbat did not close his lips over them and suck; he let the droplets flow from beneath his fangs and drip down Soundwave’s neck. This bite was entirely for claiming what was his; he could not feed from Soundwave.

“Thank you, master,” Soundwave said when Ratbat pulled away, leaving the fresh bite mark to heal on its own as always.

“Come, pet. We should feed before the meeting.” Ratbat stretched, showing off his bright purple plating and his truly impressive wingspan. “Go pick me out a femme while I shower.”

“Yes, master.”

Now that he had his dismissal/orders, Soundwave let himself out of the lair. There was enough time before the meeting that he could clean up too, and would; just not in Ratbat’s private wash rack. He would avail himself of the servants’ facilities, and then select a femme for his suzerain from the pens.

While not as nice as the private facilities those few times Soundwave had been called to assist Ratbat in cleaning himself, the servants’ showers were clean and the acetone was not freezing cold, so cleaning up was a pleasant enough affair. He could hear the sudden hammering of the servants’ fuel pumps, huddling in their bedrooms as though that would protect them from their lords’ appetites, when he turned the shower on, but he ignored them. Servants were not for feeding on. Well, not tonight. 

He rinsed the energon from his neck, and even the sting of solvent against the open wounds sent a shiver of pleasure down his struts. 

Clean, he did not linger and stepped out of the shower. He used a fresh rag and a squirt of polish from the dispenser attached to the wall to buff away the indiscreet scratches on his chest. He couldn’t show up at the senate hall with  _ those. _

Still ignoring the servants —  _ they were not food right now  _ — Soundwave headed deeper into the manor once he was perfectly presentable. The way down to the pens was a slightly convoluted one, owing to the need to keep it hidden. The ruling class turned a blind optic to anyone allowing themselves to be seduced and fed upon (as long as there were never any inconvenient bodies to explain) — at least if the vampire was also ruling class — they absolutely would not tolerate them keeping living mechs and femmes like livestock. 

They were so much more satisfying though… Ratbat insisted on only the best in all things, and that included what he chose to feed on: hence the pens, and right now, it was Soundwave’s job to select a femme that would satisfy his suzerain.

Even taking from the uncounted hordes of poor and weak that Lord Ratbat so generously rounded up, cleaned up and rehomed each quartex, they were picky about the ones they kept solely for their own use. After all, most, if not all, would just end up back under the plates, leaving their jobs and generous apartments to make nuisances of themselves in the manufacturing levels again. So if the count came up a few dozen — or hundred — short when the census was taken, none of those wretches would be missed. That said, they did need to take ones who wouldn’t mind — or notice — their captivity. It would do no good to fix and fuel them up if they took their own lives rather than become food!

That meant that most of those in the pens were insane, or so addled from various drugs that they didn’t even notice their surroundings. Neither insanity nor addiction made a difference to a vampire, so this worked out well. There were no shortage of them.

It also meant that here, where Lord Ratbat would never be to experience them, expenses could be spared on such luxuries as proper lighting, clean bedding, or more than the bare minimum of space in each cell. Security, of course, was paramount, and Soundwave checked that each cell was secure as he perused their contents.

He checked each pen for other things too: primarily taking inventory on what needed to be restocked and making note of any mortals that had inconveniently passed away during the previous cycle. Some just weren’t in good enough health for fuel and shelter to keep them from expiring, and occasionally whatever their cocktail of choice didn’t react well with the sedative they used on everyone to inhibit resistance or escape attempts. This evening there was only one who had grayed during the day, so Soundwave marked that cell to return to later.

The former-mech’s “roommates” were in no state of mind to complain about sharing berthspace with a corpse, even if such complaints would make a difference.

There were femmes scattered throughout the pens, but Soundwave chose to open up one cell with three to choose from amongst six mechs. There was barely enough room for them to lay down, and they were forced to lay on top of each other to fit, so Soundwave picked his way through them carefully to the nearest femme. She was limp and her optics dull, and she had the distinct scent of a syk addict clinging to her repaired frame. The drug had taken its toll on her, and even the glossy new paint did not disguise how she probably would not last much longer, so Soundwave pulled her out. It was unnecessary to lock her into any sort of restraints, but Lord Ratbat liked them so Soundwave used a pair of handcuffs before setting her down and returning to the pen.

The second femme was a dark, glossy green. Save for the tang of the sedative, she smelled perfectly healthy. Insane then. Ratbat may like her better than the addict, so he pulled her out too. Lord Ratbat would choose which of the two he liked better tonight, then Soundwave could have the extra.

Luckily, given their relatively slight frames, Soundwave was able to bring both of them back to his suzerain’s chambers  _ (not  _ the lair, to avoid making a mess of it) at the same time. His own somewhat slender frame was more than strong enough to manage them without having to make multiple trips. The insane one was able to half-stagger along, supporting some of her own weight, while the addict simply hung over his arm.

In contrast to the pens, the parlour constructed adjacent to them were quite plush, made for his suzerain’s comfort and pleasure while he fed as well as for easy access to the system they’d devised for disposing of the bodies: a simple chute that would take the frames and dump them in the turbodog pens for the manor’s guard animals to feed on.

Soundwave made sure that both femmes were arranged neatly on their chairs, bound exactly as his suzerain liked them, then knelt down to wait. The meeting loomed closer and he should not be waiting long…

Ratbat breezed into the room, entitlement almost dripping from his perfectly groomed plating. Soundwave continued to wait, still and silent, while his suzerain examined the offerings. The fuel would be good, would heal the wound on his neck, but the need to feed did not outweigh the need to submit to his suzerain’s control. He was nothing without his suzerain.

“You chose well, pet,” Ratbat praised, stroking his fingers possessively over the insane one’s plating. “She will do nicely.”

He’d made the choice Soundwave had expected. “Thank you, master.” Now Ratbat would feed, and when he was done, Soundwave would be allowed to bite the other. Not the way Ratbat bit though; instinct told Soundwave to go for the neck, but his suzerain told him to keep to the less appealing lines farther down his prey’s frame. A bite was a claim, and the mortals belonged to Ratbat, not Soundwave. Any marks he left on them had to be subordinate, even if no one would ever see them.

Ratbat took his time, as he usually did, coaxing the femme slightly awake so that she would struggle weakly, spicing her fuel with her pain and fear as he drank. Soundwave watched, teeth lengthening behind his mask at the display. Feeding like that… desires as deeply rooted in his spark as the one to submit to his suzerain were stoked to wakefulness and he trembled in his effort not to leap upon the second femme and do the same. It would hurt to disobey as much as it would be a pleasure to feed, and the tortures Ratbat would inflict for disobedience would only compound that discomfort.

He stayed where he was.

Finally the femme’s weak thrashing ceased. Ratbat pulled back a klik later, finished, fuel staining his teeth as he retracted the fangs and licked them clean. “Perfect.” Checking in the nearby mirror, he washed his face. “Do hurry, Soundwave. We need to leave, and you need to get the carriage ready. It won’t do to arrive at the Senate Hall on our own wings, would it?”

“No, master.” 

He didn’t get the luxury of rousing his prey to increase his pleasure in feeding — not that it would have been very successful with someone so syk-addled — but the  _ taste  _ as he lunged forward, mask snapping aside so that he could sink his fangs into the line running close beneath the plating of her inner thigh… She might not have been afraid, or even fully cognizant that she’d been bitten, but she was  _ alive  _ and her energon flowed hot and sweet past Soundwave’s lips.

Having to bite past her plating made it harder to get a good seal, and he rarely managed to avoid spilling some of his fuel when he fed. Such a waste, and a nuisance to have to clean up after, but better theirs than his. He did his best, licking up as much as he could when the flow slowed to a trickle. He didn’t manage to catch it all, he never did, and by the time her life had expired and he could turn his attention to those drips that had made it all the way to the floor, the energon had soured and become toxic.  _ Such _ a waste.

It didn’t matter. Soundwave cleaned himself at the mirror, relishing the rare glimpse of his own fangs before sliding the mask back into place so he could clean up the parlour. He scrubbed the energon up as quickly as he could, and dumped the rags into the laundry just as the bodies went into the chute to the dogs. Dimly he heard the first snarls of the big, vicious animals beginning to fight over their nightly meal.

He didn’t know where Ratbat had disappeared to while he fed, but he had a task to complete before he could fetch his suzerain anyway.

The zap ponies shied from his touch while he harnessed them, and he had to dodge more than one attempt for them to bite him in some misplaced defensive reaction. He was well fed and didn’t need to bite them! And even were he hungry, he’d finish off the contents of the cells, then the servants, before resorting to feeding off of the manor’s mechanimals.

Once the reluctant ponies were in place, Soundwave made one final assessing sweep of the carriage to make certain it was presentable, then summoned the mortal driver to bring it around front. He could and had, on occasion, driven it himself, but the ponies were always more cooperative when both vampires were fully inside the conveyance.

Everything prepared, Soundwave went back inside the manor to fetch his suzerain. 

He found Ratbat in one of the manor’s many parlours, reading a sheaf of flimsies. Soundwave recognized the reports he himself had put together, summarizing the last senate meeting they had attended, as well as his notes on their enterprises, funding various senate projects so that their outcomes could be influenced.

“Preparations complete, master,” he announced softly, standing to the side of the doorway like any of the other servants for Ratbat to either summon him to his side or motion him to follow as he left.

“Finally.” Ratbat kept the flimsies in hand as he stood. “I was afraid you’d make us late.”

“My apologies, master.” He had nothing to apologize for, they weren’t quite at the point they risked being late, but it was the response Ratbat wanted to hear. 

What he wanted to hear or not, Ratbat didn’t acknowledge the apology and swept out of the parlor. Soundwave fell into step behind him. 

One of the zap ponies actually reared in alarm when the two vampires approached and the driver had to work to rein it in. Ratbat snorted, but allowed Soundwave to help him into the carriage, settling onto the single plush bench seat. It was wide enough for both of them, but Soundwave only used the edge of it to brace himself in his position on the floor of the carriage. He would have  _ liked  _ to sit on the bench, but Ratbat didn’t allow it.

It made the ride bumpy and uncomfortable, but fortunately it wasn’t a long one. Soundwave watched the streetlights pass by. Such an interesting mortal invention, streetlights. Not exactly a new concept, but only recently had mortals explored the secrets of their own bodies enough to artificially emulate biolights, instead of using finicky oil lamps for the task of brightening the night.

Soundwave remembered hunting through darkened streets, and even if he missed the darkness, those had been hungry, lean times and he much preferred the pens. Which, in a twisted series of investments, had been made possible by the lights: Ratbat had seen that the mortals would desire them as soon as he’d seen electricity first demonstrated at a magic show. He’d accumulated some wealth, and used it all to invest in the lights, and eventually other such innovations, a decision that had brought him not just increased wealth, but also power. 

Wealth he used to generously clean the streets and under-plate industrial levels of undesirables, and power he used to deflect attention from what  _ else _ he might be doing with those mechs and femmes.

It might have been nice to truly  _ hunt  _ again, but the only way to keep from becoming a target of the mortal police and their “rogue vampire” hunters was not to kill. Seducing prey into volunteering to be fed on was a lot of effort for little reward; Soundwave had no proof any of the other high profile vampires in Iacon had worked out how to construct and supply their own pens, but he suspected they must have. 

The world was changing, and vampires had to change with it.

Ratbat continued to review the reports while they traveled, and he didn’t look up until they pulled to a stop outside the towering senate building. He handed the flimsies to Soundwave to keep track of without looking at him. The senate tower staff opened the door, and Ratbat accepted a servant’s help climbing down out of the carriage. Soundwave stepped down unassisted, long, thin fingers wrapped carefully around the flimsies to keep any from escaping as he caught up to Ratbat.

For all that Ratbat himself wasn’t a member of the senate (yet; he was working toward it, bit by bit), they spent a lot of time in this building. Unerringly they made their way to the audience chamber, and Soundwave bit back a useless snarl at the sight of Dai Atlas already there when they entered. No one could see his fangs behind his mask, and even if he hadn’t been made to wear it, it would have upset the mortals and not made any impression at all on the older vampire.

“Lord Ratbat. Soundwave,” Dai Atlas greeted, bowing slightly and showing hilt of the sword he always wore on his back. 

“Senator,” Ratbat returned, and Soundwave doubted the mortals around them really understood how much dislike he managed to show in the curl of lips and fangs around the word.

Dai Atlas didn’t return the showing of fangs. 

Soundwave hung back as the perfunctory greetings continued, nodding whenever anyone acknowledged him. Not everyone did. Ratbat was the one with actual status; Soundwave was just his vassal. He did, however, pay attention to everyone who was present. The project up for discussion was a critical one, and the time to sway any undecided mechs to their side — or eliminate the opposition, where possible — was before things came to an official vote.

Everyone noticed when the Prime — the ruler of Iacon — stepped into the room. A hush fell over the mingling crowd and they waited to see if they would be called to order, or if the Prime wished to speak with the mechs attending the meeting semi-privately first.

The Prime stepped up to the podium, calling the meeting to order and everyone scrambled to their seats.

Not being actual members of the senate, Ratbat and Soundwave were seated in the lower observers’ seats, with several others. Soundwave recognized both Cyclonus, the police’s most successful vampire hunter and a member of the Church of Primus, and Jhiaxus, who was angling to become the head scientist of the project under discussion.

And what was the goal of that project? Simply put: vampire control. It was hard for mortals to protect themselves against “rogue” vampires who refused (or failed) to hide their hunting, and the feral vampires who couldn’t. It wasn’t easy for other vampires either, when it came to defending their territories from the disrespectful interlopers. As such, there was interest on both sides in developing a way to better control the undesired elements.

It served Ratbat’s purpose to be better understood, and less feared, so that mortals would not look beyond the surface to see just how little of his and his vassal’s energon came from seduction.

This was a goal shared by all high class vampires. Seduction, they claimed, as though that was their only source of life-blood, was so much easier without the lurking nightmares of a now bygone era muddling the night.

The question, of course, was  _ how. _

Dai Atlas launched into a speech about the danger of trying to use the new technologies of electricity and engines to shape the will of the gods. Always the religious angle from him, and never anything truly substantive. Dire warnings of what  _ could  _ happen if they meddled in things beyond them weren’t very effective when they all hinged on maybes — not with Nova, at any rate. The Prime was a great proponent of technological advancement, but he was only one mech, and Dai Atlas was finding an audience among the others.

Primus’ religion was a very popular one, and as much as the likes of Ratbat and Soundwave might like to dismiss everything Dai Atlas said, it was hard to deny their god’s relevance when even a careless invocation of His name could send them flinching and stumbling away in pain. 

Other mechs stood as Dai Atlas sat, to refute or agree with his stance, and others stood to continue the debate from there. Cyclonus was called forward twice: once to provide his evaluation of just how much of a problem rogue vampires were in the city, and the second time to resolve a conflict of theological interpretation. Even the Prime spoke, making it clear that what he wanted was a weapon.  _ That  _ was what concerned Soundwave the most, because a weapon that worked on rogue vampires could also be used against  _ them,  _ but Ratbat hadn’t invited his opinion. He was confident of being one of the ones wielding it, not being targeted by it. Only time would tell if he was right, and for the time being all that Soundwave should be concerning himself with was what his suzerain wanted.

Jhiaxus was called to report his findings so far. He was, he said, far from being able to create any sort of  _ weapon, _ but he’d made much progress in studying the  _ quantifiable _ nature of a vampire and subsequently discovered the energy flow he believed responsible for a vampire’s reaction to their god’s name.

“With time, and additional resources, I’m confident I can find a way to generate that energy in isolation and, from there, develop a way to manipulate it,” he concluded, not-so-subtly angling again for more control over the project. Soundwave had no doubt he would dedicate everything he had to realizing the technology, given the scent of obsession radiating from the mech.

Dai Atlas’ red optics narrowed. “You’re playing with forces you do not understand,” he hissed. “For all of your experiments, you know nothing of a vampire’s true nature. If there is any way to invoke this ‘energy’ without the framing of a god’s name, we should not be meddling with it.”

“I’ve heard the same said about other technological breakthroughs,” Jhiaxus countered. “Of course we don’t know — hence the need to experiment and discover. The answers are  _ there,  _ just waiting for us to find them! Think how much our lives were improved by harnessing the ‘unharnessable’ electricity. If no one had taken the risk then, how many rewards would we now be living without? Rewards that were not even initially foreseen?”

Soundwave felt his suzerain tense in anticipation. It was Ratbat’s plan, he knew, to do now what he had done with the discovery of electricity: invest, and in so doing catapult himself into a position of such power and influence that any weapons developed would remain pointed squarely at his enemies. 

Nova, also, seemed interested. “You believe this ‘energy’ to have wider applications than just the control of vampires?”

“The energy involved in the creation of vampires has many more applications than just that,” Jhiaxus informed the Prime smugly, speaking over Dai Atlas’ scoff of disgust. “I have found it clinging to a number of ancient artifacts, all with varied uses. Of course we cannot actually harness the artifacts, given how the ‘gods’ invoked for their creation all had varied and arcane requirements, but often the records make their uses quite clear. That being the case, I see no reason the opposing energy would be any less versatile.”

“You know nothing of which you speak,” the vampiric senator hissed again.

“Which is why,” Ratbat cut in before the scientist could speak in defense of his research, “we must first investigate such things. I would be  _ quite _ interested in furthering Jhiaxus’ research. If only to know what we are.”

Dai Atlas’ cold anger was easily redirected to the other vampires in the room. “If only you’d bother looking deep into your corrupted spark, you’d know  _ exactly _ what we are,  _ Lord _ Ratbat. But you’re too busy playing games and sating hungers that have nothing to do with the pursuit of knowledge to bother.”

This time Soundwave did snarl behind his mask. The sound was too quiet and muffled for the mortals in the room to hear, but Dai Atlas’ attention flickered briefly to him, and Ratbat silently signalled him to back down. Of course; his suzerain could defend himself against the insult.

If insult he even considered it. It was true, after all; it was only that the insinuation of “sating hungers” could make the mortals around them suspicious that made the words dangerous. “We aren’t all scholars, Senator,” Ratbat retorted smoothly. “Entrepreneurship and the betterment of the Iacon Empire are both quite time consuming.”

Empire? Iacon wasn’t an empire. Soundwave could tell how well the words pleased the Prime, however, and Dai Atlas didn’t miss it either. “What sort of time and resources do you think this research will require?” asked Nova, tacitly stating his willingness to further the project.

“As yet, I’ve only isolated the energy needed,” Jhiaxus simpered. “It will require further experimentation to generate the energy independently. Right now I believe a crystalline structure — which as you know, could be expensive, especially accounting for inevitable unsatisfactory results — would be the best, though if I could examine an artifact that uses the same wavelengths…”

“No,” Dai Atlas snapped.

Nova Prime frowned at the senator, but did not insist. “Very well. We will discuss a prospective budget for your continued experiments.”

“If you find you require additional funding down the road, I would be happy to discuss a contribution,” Ratbat put forward quickly. “I meant what I said about my interest in your research.”

“Thank you, m’lord Ratbat.”

The senate talks about what sort of budget  _ Iacon _ should invest in this project went on for some time.

Dai Atlas stayed silent, and predictably refused to contribute any of his efforts or fortunes to what he considered an abomination. Soundwave, too, stayed silent, busy constructing a hierarchy of support and opposition. Those most vehemently opposed wouldn’t be worth trying to sway, but those closer to neutral on both sides would require courting and cultivating… 

As the discussion wound up and Nova once again called the meeting to order, everyone looked to the podium set across from the one the Prime occupied, to the single mech who’d stayed silent since the session began: Alpha Trion, supposedly the inheritor of the original Alpha Trion, and interpreter of the Covenant of Primus. The young mech wasn’t paying attention, reading the Book, and it took several kliks for him to realize that they were waiting for him — as Primus’ stand-in — to weigh in on the discussion.

“Oh. Sorry.” The mech quickly pulled up and skimmed the meeting minutes while the senate waited impatiently, then turned back to the Book. He flipped through several pages, reading them carefully. “If it can be done, it will be called the Matrix of Leadership,” he finally pronounced.

“A fitting name,” Nova declared, and Ratbat, along with several others, nodded their agreement. The Prime then dismissed the meeting before Dai Atlas could voice any of the objections blazing in his optics. 

Servants delivered snacks as the mechs left their seats and began to mill about, socializing. Of course neither Ratbat nor Dai Atlas could partake in those treats, and Soundwave could not find it in himself to be surprised when the other vampire eeled his way through the crowd to confront Ratbat.

“I could not help but notice that naming the thing did not come with a statement of approval from our god for its creation,” the senator said silkily, stepping close enough to, given that he was armed and Ratbat and Soundwave were not, be considered a challenge. He showed only the barest hint of fang, but his optics were bright with familiar bloodlust, for all that he retained his civilized veneer for the mortals around them.

“Oh? And does our god make a habit of such announcements then, when he approves of something? I’ve never heard one,” Ratbat said, standing his ground in response to the subtle threat. Soundwave stood beside him, senses heightening with the tension. If Dai Atlas wanted a fight, he would fight for his suzerain.

“That  _ is _ what the position of interpreter is supposed to provide, yes,” Dai Atlas countered, optics flicking to Soundwave to evaluate his contribution to the coming confrontation. Two against one, and neither Ratbat nor Soundwave were weak vampires. Neither was Dai Atlas, but a smart vampire would back down at this point. Yet he did not, and Soundwave wondered what he considered an equalizer as he edged around the senator, hoping to flank him. “I rather loathe you, Ratbat,” he continued bluntly — too bluntly for polite company. “I  _ almost _ loathe you enough to wish you a long life, such that you live to see what your foolishness will manufacture.”

“‘Almost’?” Ratbat repeated archly. “I’m not so fond of you I’d regret solving your problem by arranging it so you don’t live long enough to see my foresight triumph.”

Both vampires were baring fangs now, and Dai Atlas’ claws flexed—

The distinct  _ smack _ of a police baton hitting a deployed arm-shield interrupted, ringing with the distinctive sound of holiness. All three vampires looked over to see Cyclonus standing, weapon and shield deployed. “Do I need to remind you three that dominance challenges are the provenance of  _ rogue _ vampires?” the police-priest asked pointedly.

Ratbat and Dai Atlas both sized up this new opponent, weighing the pros and cons of pursuing their conflict. Soundwave hoped they would decide against it. Cyclonus was a renowned warrior, protected by Primus. Attacking him would definitely be unpleasant, possibly be fatal, and certainly wouldn’t endear them to the mortal members of the senate — win or lose. But the choice wasn’t up to him, and Ratbat and Dai Atlas also had to consider who would back down first, if that was what they chose to do.

Dai Atlas’ smile was utterly insincere, but it covered the tips of his fangs. “So it is,” he said pleasantly, not backing down, but throwing the choice to attack, or not, at Ratbat like a gauntlet between them.

Ratbat glared at him like his gaze could melt armor, an all-but-undetectable hiss escaping around his fangs as he slowly, gratingly, pressed his lips together over them. The tension between them didn’t lessen one bit, but Soundwave relaxed as the imminent violence faded with his suzerain’s concession. “A good thing none of us are rogues then,” he gritted out. Dai Atlas had won that round, without striking so much as a single physical blow.

It only made the defeat sting worse.

“I should invite you over for a meal one evening,” Dai Atlas threatened politely; mortals considered mealtime discussions civilized, nevermind that accepting such an invitation would put Ratbat squarely in Dai Atlas’ territory, at the mercy of his own vassals, if he had any, and other subordinate pack members. “Perhaps we could work out our differences then.”

“Oh, don’t feel as though you have to put yourself out like that. I could as easily invite you over,” Ratbat replied confidently, pausing just long enough that the statement sounded sincere before adding, “but perhaps we would save each other’s time if we simply agreed to disagree.”

“Perhaps.” The senator evaluated Soundwave and Ratbat again. “Do let me know if you wish to resolve this at some point in the future.” His smile widened, just barely showing off the tips of fangs as he bowed. He turned to Cyclonus, and away from Ratbat. “Thank you for your timely interruption, your holiness. Perhaps you’d like some company at the table to discuss a point of scripture I’ve been contemplating for some time?”

From a senator to a public servant, however highly ranked in his department, it was not a request.

“I wish you both an enlightening conversation,” Ratbat said to the pair, then quickly turned on his heel. Soundwave followed smoothly after him, wondering what outlet his suzerain would choose to vent his frustrations. His polite mask barely survived to the carriage, and as soon as no one but Soundwave could see his expression, he ceased hiding his outrage altogether.

“How  _ dare _ he!” Ratbat hissed, optics flaring brightly in the darkness. Clawed fingers rested on Soundwave’s shoulder and dug in, punching through plating. Soundwave flinched at the pain, but didn’t try to pull away. He’d expected at least this much, and quite possibly more, before they arrived back at the manor. The only real question was whether he’d be allowed to see to the carriage while Ratbat found another punching bag, or if he’d drag him inside and render him all but unconscious before throwing him down into the pens to feed and heal himself.

He didn’t like this. He’d done nothing to deserve or provoke this. He was a loyal vassal, and had been ready to take all these injuries from Dai Atlas in defense of his suzerain… but he was a loyal vassal, and would take them from his suzerain as well, if that was his will. 

It was easy enough to submit, taking what satisfaction he could in that and in knowing it would be over soon enough. 

Ratbat’s angry words at Dai Atlas very quickly devolved into frustrated growls and angry hisses as he tore into Soundwave, almost absently. He wasn’t looking at Soundwave, anyway, and that was both a blessing and a curse. He wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t trying to hurt Soundwave as much as he could short of killing him, but…

Soundwave winced again, unable to fully suppress a soft cry when claws dug through the wounds his master had already left to tear at the wires running along his spinal struts, ripping them free and sending pain shooting through the vampire’s entire frame.

The sound pulled Ratbat out of his temper enough to withdraw his claws. He brutally backhanded Soundwave against the side of the carriage, back to muttering dire imprecations against Dai Atlas as his vassal slid down the wall to collapse at his feet. Soundwave braced himself for a kick, but it didn’t come. Maybe that meant Ratbat was done with him for now? He hoped so. It was hard to be sure until he tried to stand, but the numbness spreading down his leg in the wake of the pain suggested he would be limping until he fed — but limping was still walking.

No such luck that he’d been forgotten. As the carriage came to a stop, Ratbat reached down and grabbed Soundwave by the collar faring and dragged him from the conveyance without waiting to be helped out by the servants. The mortals cowered from their lord’s temper, but Ratbat didn’t even see them, claws perilously close to ripping out Soundwave’s throat. 

Inside the manor it was dark, though the lights should have remained on. “Lazy,” Ratbat snarled in the general direction of the servants, throwing Soundwave toward one of the parlours to land in a heap of limp, blue plating.

“On the contrary,” a strange voice said from the shadows. A mech—vampire, a powerful warframe, with deep red optics and long sharp fangs nestled in a row of pointed teeth, stepped out of the shadows, and more importantly, out of the slight breeze from an open window that had carried his scent away from the entry hall. “I found your servants to be eminently well-trained.”

_ Threat!  _ Soundwave struggled to get his feet back under him, but his shredded neural wiring wasn’t carrying signals properly. His right leg was entirely unresponsive, and his right arm felt weak and sluggish. He was terribly off-balance as he clawed his way upright while Ratbat was busy snarling, “Who are you and how did you get in here?” at the intruder.

“My name,” the vampire stalked forward, “is Megatronus, and your servants may be well trained, but are easily tricked. Isn’t it  _ nice _ to know that in building a career, a power base, entirely out of hunting and killing ‘rogue’ vampires, you succeeded so well? It’s become a terrible bother to hunt the streets, so I thought to myself ‘well,  _ he _ doesn’t hunt every night, so why should I?’” Megatronus stalked forward, flexing claws that were as long as Ratbat’s entire hand. “So here I am, taking what is mine.”

“Everything here is  _ mine,”  _ Ratbat hissed, bringing his own claws up in a position that seemed to be having trouble deciding whether it wanted to be offensive or defensive. Soundwave saw him cast a glance in his direction, and his scent spiked with  _ frustration  _ and a tiny curl of  _ fear.  _ He wouldn’t be completely on his own for this fight, but Soundwave wasn’t going to be able to provide much help in his current condition. His fit of temper was proving spectacularly ill-timed.

Megatronus had no trouble deciding if he wanted to be offensive or defensive. He brought his claws up, bared his teeth, and lunged. 

It was clear within a couple of exchanges that he was a  _ good  _ fighter; more than relying on instinct he had actual training or experience (or both) in combat. He was powerful, well-fed for all his words of hunting becoming difficult. And he was  _ big.  _ His frame took up a lot of space, making it hard for Ratbat to maneuver. Soundwave could see his suzerain was trying to get around behind the intruder so he didn’t have to come at him head-on, but he wasn’t having any luck.

If they kept moving that way though, Soundwave could— there! Pushing off with his good leg, Soundwave threw himself at Megatronus’ back, mask aside and fangs bared.

The backhand that knocked Soundwave aside and back into a heap on the floor, crumpling plating and dislocating his jaw, was almost casual. Soundwave’s optics fritzed from the power of the blow, and through the static he saw that Megatronus had left himself open to Ratbat’s attack when he’d swatted him away. His suzerain was clawing at the broad expanse of chest armor, trying to get at the intruder’s neck.

But Megatronus’ armor was thick and even sharp vampire claws barely scored it.

“Pitiful!” he roared, and proved that  _ his  _ claws had no trouble tearing through Ratbat’s plating. Ratbat shrieked in agony, and Soundwave hurled the nearest projectile he could get his fingers on — a severed piece of his own armor — in the direction of the sound.

Megatronus hissed — maybe in pain, maybe in anger — but didn’t turn his attention back to Soundwave. Ratbat was on the ground now, writhing and clawing in desperation, barely leaving any sort of marks on his attacker’s arms and shoulders, as his chest was ripped open. Purple sparklight flooded the darkened room.

He didn’t want to do it. Megatronus was too powerful, and any further attacks would just be inviting more damage. But his suzerain was in danger, was dying, and until he was  _ dead,  _ Soundwave was  _ his. _

Thinly armored prehensile data cables extended from Soundwave’s frame, whipping across the room to lash out at Megatronus. He caught one massive arm, yanking it back from delivering the killing blow, and Megatronus stopped with a snarl, glaring at the limbs wrapped around his own. 

“Loyal little thing,” he rumbled, then  _ yanked. _ Soundwave was pulled toward him, tumbling with his own cry of agony. One cable was pulled right out of his frame, bleeding sparks and energon. 

The other simply slackened enough for Megatronus to deliver the killing blow and rip out Ratbat’s spark. Purple light flared like a star, then died, plunging the room back into near-complete darkness.

Soundwave lay shuddering in pain and disorientation at the loss of his suzerain. He needed… he needed… Whimpering, he raised his face in search of those red optics. Megatronus had proven the stronger vampire. He was powerful, commanding, and blindingly, beautifully brutal. Whatever he wanted with Soundwave, he could take it.

“No more fight in you, loyal one?” Megatronus asked, standing to tower over both his fallen opponents, claws ready, but radiating more curiosity than the pure violence he had a klik ago.

He didn’t want to kill him then? Soundwave’s vocalizer crackled as he tried to speak, the grinding vibrations of damaged components aching along his shattered jaw. “S-s-zz…  _ z-zrn.” _

“Suzerain,” Megatronus said the word like he’d never uttered it before. He was quick though, working out what Soundwave was trying to tell him within nanokliks. “Then you were this trash’s vassal. Such a shame, but since he’s dead, you can be… claimed.” Soundwave could practically  _ hear _ the acquisitive smile, smell the possessive desire.

Yes.  _ Yes!  _ But Soundwave couldn’t form the words. With a painful  _ pop!  _ his vocalizer shorted completely, leaving him mute. 

Fortunately he didn’t need to speak. He felt the weight of the other vampire settle over him, rolling Soundwave onto his back; Megatronus was massive enough to crush him if he was careless, but Soundwave accepted the pinning. The other vampire had already proven stronger, strong enough for Soundwave to submit to comfortably, and he was in no shape to fight anyway. Rough, clawed fingers pulled Soundwave’s head up, baring his neck.

Megatronus’ bite was nothing like Ratbat’s. Ratbat’s had been painful, yes, but he’d never had the strength to do more than puncture Soundwave’s lines with his fangs; between his sharpened teeth, the power behind his bite, and his clumsy, unpracticed motions, Megatronus almost tore out Soundwave’s entire throat.

If his vocalizer hadn’t already been gone, this would have destroyed it. If he were capable of bleeding to death, this would have done it. But even as the need to feed rose sharply inside him, the need to submit found satisfaction. Ratbat was dead, but now he had Megatronus. 

His new suzerain pulled back, and Soundwave heard him spit out a mouthful of fuel before he stood. “Go feed and heal,” the vampire commanded, “then come back and clean up this mess. I’ll be exploring  _ my _ new holdings when you’re done.”

Yes. It would take him a while, both to get to the pens to feed and then to clean up the disaster of a room (and the trail he would inevitably leave on the way to the pens), but he would do it. Unable to verbalize his acknowledgement, or even nod properly, Soundwave pushed himself into a semblance of prostration as he rolled himself over before setting off, dragging himself across the floor.

So… hungry… 

The bright scent of fuel and fear drew Soundwave’s attention as he drew near a closet. One of the servants cowered inside, hiding from the fight. Soundwave paused. The servants weren’t supposed to be for eating, but the pens were so far away… 

His remaining data cable snaked out toward the door handle.

.

.

.

End

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Here is a link to the [Vampiric Codex Official Timeline](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uS2EX-d3Npd00EkN2SxOa7010AUFPI0TVqiS2vbnsbQ/edit?usp=sharing).


End file.
